


Keith in Real Life

by Hiisilija



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Slow Burn, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiisilija/pseuds/Hiisilija
Summary: It all came rushing back to him in a painful blur of dizziness; the kid not even a year under Keith—the one in his class at the Garrison. He had been taller than Keith by an inch or two at the time, but that was no longer the case. His face was younger now than it was then (if that was even possible). He was lankier then, too. Not as confident or comfortable in his own body.Keith's chest tightened. Old emotions resurfaced in a storm of bitter fury. It was like Keith hadn't spent years forgetting. The awkward boy who hit on every girl was now confident and out of the closet—his shields down. Keith felt a dull ache in his knuckles; a painful reminder of everything that happened the day he left.
Relationships: Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62





	1. A Familiar Face

Keith was dancing in Shiro's old, beat-up black truck. The young man couldn’t recall a time where it actually looked black, he just knew that’s what it was supposed to be. Not that anyone would be able to tell with the chipped paint, rust, and general age that came with a car they stopped selling in 1969. But it was for that very reason that Keith secretly liked the rust and dirt. The old truck had developed a reddish-brownish hue to its corners and edges. The roof was rusted to terracotta red, the doors to a bloodied pink-orange. Keith loved this truck. It was his first car; the official symbol of his freedom. He could do anything and go anywhere. This truck gave him the freedom he'd been aching for since Shiro's family took him in.

He kept the music blasting, trying to calm his nerves. He hadn't seen Shiro in a long time and found himself more nervous than he should be. Shiro was flying down from the state of Washington to meet Keith in miserable East Texas. Why? Keith couldn’t be sure. He had his guesses.

A drive through dusty New Mexico, boiling Arizona, and grimy Nevada to the beautiful, coastal state of Oregon would certainly break the ice between them. Why else would Shiro come all the way to Texas when he was currently residing in Oregon’s neighboring state? Keith’s other suspicion was less likely, but the scenario he preferred. Apparently, Shiro’s boyfriend would be staying with him in Oregon this summer. Keith had resigned himself to a lonely drive to meet him when Shiro proposed an alternative that meant Keith could have him all to himself; no boyfriend, no complications. The two of them could come back together.

Keith was amazed by how quickly two brothers could fall apart. There had been a time where Keith relied on Shiro for everything. Shiro guided, counseled, and taught him everything he knew from the moment his father died.

Then again, that was before Kerberos.

Keith's phone buzzed. 

********

Unknown Number

This is Takashi Shirogane's brother?

**Yes?**

okay

sorry but this is his boyfriend.

**Excuse me?**

shiro had a clever plan to force us to get along

i was going to drive up with the two of you

**I don't think so. Who is this?**

**How do you know my brother?**

Im dating him. He was going to introduce me to you on the drive up.

**I think you're mistaken. I'm in Houston. Texas.**

im in houston.

**What?**

Hard rock cafe? Houston avenue

Shiro said you would be confused.

**What would make him think that?**

He missed his flight. he was coming down to pick me up.

He could only afford one plane ticket and he wasn't leaving me here. I cant actually afford my own...

and you're too stubborn to fly up and he didn't want to drive 3000 miles on your own in your "sad truck"

**Shiro missed his flight?**

Yup. Work emergency before vacation started. he said he'd explain later

but that it was more important that I got into contact with you?

**Me?**

you're my ride. no money

remember?

...?

Hello?

sorry about this I thought you knew

Shiro made it sound like you knew. of course he did. I don't want to intrude

but I need a way to get up or I'm stuck at my abuela's for the summer

**Wait.**

I mean. She's nice. but shes no Abeulita

... What?

**You're inside?**

have been for twenty minutes. 

but I guess you were looking for Shiro...

should I come out? I'm not going to OFFICIALLY ask in a text

but I still need a ride

how bout it bro?

**I'll come inside.**

**What do you look like? Where are you sitting?**

back left corner. looking away from the door. 

I'm the smoakin bisexual cuban

**Welcome to Texas. Can I get something besides Latino?**

back left corner

**Thanks.**

You're sarcastic. Right? Shiro said you didn't like people.

never mind

stay out there.

I can find a sad truck easier than a person

**Fine.**

sorry

**What again?**

oops. i just meant

i mean,

if you want to come inside thats cool

but it just occurred to me that shiro said you didn't handle people well and its crowded... and you've been sitting in the parking lot for twenty minutes in the sun rather than air conditioning with drinks.

**I appreciate the consideration.**

You're welcome?

hang on

okay. I'm outside

Where are you parked?

**In the corner by the exit. It's a red toyota. I'll turn up the music.**

... wait.

the guy blasting metallica?

**Punk Rock.**

But that's you? stubby little red thing? kinda rusty?

oh,,, sad truck

I get it now.

**Follow The Talking Heads. I've rolled down the windows for you.**

do you always text like you're writing an essay?

**Do you always text like you're speaking? If you change your mind, you know you could hit backspace instead of send. Right?**

no. then you wouldn't get the full grasp of my personality

i should never be censored.

**Clearly.**

Don't worry. I'm just as expressive in person

**Fantastic.**

Not to ryhme

but

Sarcastic.

:)

?

You still there?

oh, right

I'll come find you now

********

Keith stared at the phone in his hands, debating an answer. 

If this poor soul thought he was being sarcastic, he clearly didn't understand the lengths Keith just went through to be polite. Shiro would be proud. Keith rarely exercised such restraint. Keith considered sending another message, something along the lines of 'If I answer you will you start walking already?' or 'If I throw my phone out the window and never answer again, will you take a hint?'

Of course, he would phrase it slightly nicer than that. His current dilemma was getting the idiot to him, where he could talk in person, much faster. Even though Keith couldn't filter himself outside of a text, at least he could understand what was happening. 

Keith's phone flashed the bright message indicating Shiro had not taken his call. If Shiro wasn't on a plane, he could answer the phone. Even with this work emergency, Shiro had time to call his boyfriend. He was throwing the poor man at Keith as a shield. Not only did he lie about their private drive up, but he wasn't going to make it. 

The level of anxiety Keith was experiencing at the prospect of driving cross country with an outgoing stranger was akin to walking through a crowded Hard Rock Cafe. Only this time, Keith didn't seem to have a choice in the matter. Was he supposed to send Shiro's boyfriend back home when he couldn't afford transport to Oregon? This was the same man Shiro was dedicating his entire summer off to. Obviously, he meant a lot to Shiro...

Ugh. Keith had to be nice to him. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath during the beat of silence between songs. 

_"Keith!?"_

Keith looked over, making eye contact with... Well, a Smoakin' Cuban. I bisexual one, as it was. Keith quickly scolded himself. Obviously, he wasn't going to hit on Shiro's boyfriend. He wasn't going to dream about him either, but this... kid, was Keith's type. Not in a petty way. But he was young. Younger than Keith. Barely eighteen. Keith never thought Shiro would go for anyone so much younger than him.

Keith swallowed. 

_Lance McClain._

It all came rushing back to him in a painful blur of dizziness; the kid not even a year under Keith—the one in his class at the Garrison. He had been taller than Keith by an inch or two at the time, but that was no longer the case. His face was younger now than it was then (if that was even possible). He was lankier then, too. Not as confident or comfortable in his own body.

Keith's chest tightened. Old emotions resurfaced in a storm of bitter fury. It was like Keith hadn't spent years forgetting. The awkward boy who hit on every girl was now confident and out of the closet—his shields down. Keith felt a dull ache in his knuckles; a painful reminder of everything that happened the day he left.

Lance's brows were furrowed. His cheek was pinched to the left in some combination of anger and reservation. It occurred to Keith that Lance had no way to know that Keith's anger wasn't directed at him. He took great care to wipe the hateful expression from his face, recognizing he failed. 

Lance folded his strong arms across his chest. "Keith Kogane," Lance said, pronouncing Keith's last name correctly. "Nope. No, you—No, no, no. No, you are not Shiro's brother."

Keith said the only stupid thing he could think of. "Who are you?"


	2. Disaster Imminent

"Who _am_ I!?" Lance looked shocked. The shock quickly melted into anger. "Uh, the name's _Lance_. We were in the same class at the Garrison."

Lance glared at him through confused eyes. Keith felt his heart beating slower like it always did when he was caught in a lie. Lance saw how Keith reacted when he realized who he was looking at. Lance _knew_ Keith recognized him, but Keith felt trapped. He couldn't... It's not like he could just tell Lance about everything. When Shiro had disappeared on that mission to Kerberos, it was the hardest time of Keith's life. Harder than losing his dad. Harder than realizing his mom left him. 

Shiro was sick, and he knew it. Keith didn't think he was coming _back._ No one did. 

It took a whole year for Shiro and the rest of the crew to return. They returned as heroes, surviving critical failure in their ship, losing all communications, then hopping across space to an abandoned satellite to complete repairs. Only then did they finally, _finally_ crash back on earth. The Garrison grounded Shiro for life and admitted the Holts for psych evaluations.

Did Keith admit to what happened? Did he apologize?

Nope. He didn't. 

"Really?" Keith choked. "Are you an engineer?"

" _No_ ," Lance groaned, almost growled. "I'm a _pilot_."

Keith stared at him. Right. He'd forgotten that, while Keith and Shiro were no longer flying, the rest of the world was.

Lance rolled his eyes, his anger fading. "We were like rivals. You know," Lance explained. Maybe he was buying it? It's not like they were very close. "Lance and Keith, neck and neck."

One look and Keith could tell it was a trap. Lance may have struggled in class, but damn, he was _smart_. A silent challenge rested behind the intense gleam in Lance's eyes. His gaze was so intense Keith wanted to crawl under his truck. He reminded himself he had been through worse, but it wasn't helping. Keith was dangling over a chasm of memories; a few good, most bad. 

"Oh, _wait_. I remember you." He did the only thing that made sense. The one thing that trumped his anxiety _every_ time. Keith lashed out. "You're a _cargo pilot_."

Lance snorted. "I'm not, actually. I was fighter class, thanks to you washing out. Graduated at the top of my class."

A swell of jealousy and longing prompted Keith to stay very still. He kept his emotions under wraps, ignoring the memory of inertia tugging at his gut. The steel grip of the controls in his hands; the absolute certainty that Keith used with them. "Well, congratulations."

Lance registered something in Keith's monotone voice, perhaps the lack of emotion. Lance's gaze drifted to the rising sun. "Well, since we're already acquainted. Ready to go?"

Keith raised his eyebrows. "Sorry?"

Lance smiled. "I have a wedding to attend in a couple months. I planned on spending them with my boyfriend. Just do this for me," Lance prompted, waiting for Keith to relax. "Promise me that this thing won't kill us."

Keith smirked. "Trust me, I built it myself."

********

Keith tried not to be prideful. It was one of the many unfortunate character traits he carried under his now-calm resolve: pride. But seeing Lance, an amazing pilot, aweing the truck Keith built fed the starved emotion dangerously. 

"You built this?" Lance asked, shifting on the padded seats. 

"Yep. I know it's small, but that's how they used to make these things." Keith turned the air conditioning down. "I've replaced every part of this truck except the outside."

"Yeah. I can tell," Lance laughed. 

Keith's cheeks tugged up on their own accord. "It can go faster than any other vehicle. I can get up to speed in a third of the time."

Lance glanced over the shoulder, eyeing the bed of the truck. "I guess it _is_ a lot lighter." 

Keith followed his vision. "Yeah, if I need to carry anything, it goes back there. It slows Red down, but not by much."

Keith kept his eyes on the road, watching thousands of larger, cleaner vehicles driving in neat lines. Excluding the occasional car that attempted to beat traffic by weaving through it. Keith had a very low opinion of people who tried to drive their own cars for _that_ particular reason. But, of course, Keith was the exception. 

"Red?" Lance asked, his tone highly controlled.

"Well, we think Red was black once. Shiro's great, great grandfather collected rare cars. This was one of them," Keith admitted with hesitancy. How much did Lance know about Shiro's family? Should he elaborate? Probably not. There was no point in discussing the past.

"Great, great grandfather, huh?" Lance jolted in his seat. "Wait, a second! How _old_ is this, exactly?"

Keith pinched his lips. "This... This came out before—uh—the _first_ mission to the moon."

"The first mission—" Lance gagged. "No, let me out. _Nope_. Not happening."

Keith cast a quizzical glance sideways. "Too late. Your bags are packed and we're merged into heavy traffic."

"Nineteen-sixty-nine. No. That's the dark ages, Mullet. _The dark ages_... Speaking of which," Lance gestured wildly to Keith's hands on the wheel. "Are you gonna let the car drive now? _Please_ tell me it can drive. I don't want to die in a crash because of _Pilot Error_ —"

Keith heard Lance cut himself off—wisely—but it was too late. The words were already spoken. _Pilot Error._

Lance stared out the passenger window. His fingers fumbled with his jacket sleeves, traveling up and tugging on his hood. Lance managed to resist the urge to put it on. "Sorry."

Keith licked his lips, his throat drier than it was before. How was that possible? Two words. Was that all it took? "That's—you're fine. It's... There's not much to do in here. Not..." Lance was staring at Keith's hands, flexing and flexing against the wheel. "There isn't a lot of room, so I prefer to drive. I don't have to... If you don't want me to."

Lance waited, possibly contemplating his choice of words. The awkward silence finally forced him to spit it out. "I _don't_ think you're going to crash, but now—these days—when cars _do_ , it's almost _always_ because of—"

"I am a pilot," Keith snapped. "Remember?"

"Right," Lance said, avoiding the topic of Keith not graduating. 

Keith shook his head, feeling like pushing Lance for no real reason. Pride, perhaps. "I bet I could still out-fly you."

"Maybe," Lance admitted softly.

Keith grunted at Lance's response. This was no fun. After a quick reminder not to make a game of Shiro's significant other, Keith made the horrible decision to be a good person. Keith flipped the auto-pilot switch on, sliding his chair back to give himself as much room as possible. Lance followed his example, stretching his legs and staring at his feet; mirroring Keith but no longer acknowledging him. 

"Seriously?" Keith asked. "Years of experience, top of your class, you're not even going to defend yourself?"

Lance kept his head down, talking to his toes. "You were an amazing pilot."

Keith rolled his eyes. He nudged his fist into Lance's arm, getting the man to look him in the eyes. Keith sighed. "Maybe... _Maybe,_ I _would have_ been. If I hadn't dropped out, maybe. But not _anymore_. Don't feel so sorry for me. You have taken _nothing_ from me."

Lance folded his legs onto the chair, rocking slightly as he did so, still not keeping still. Even in crushing awkwardness. "Shiro is your brother?"

Keith nodded hastily, realizing that Lance was waiting for confirmation. It felt strange to confirm that Shiro was his brother because he _was_. Keith didn't really see it any other way. Sometimes, he forgot that Shiro's family wasn't his family. Yeah, they took him in. They raised him. But Keith Kogane wasn't the brother of the untouchable Takashi Shirogane. Keith sometimes forgot that the world didn't know. 

Shiro was always sure to protect him from them knowing.

"I knew you _knew_ him. We all—" Lance bit his cheek. "we all knew he got you into the garrison. Some kids—not me—thought you... _left_ because he wasn't there to make excuses for you anymore."

"I figured," Keith told him.

"There were rumors about Shirogane writing off your behavior with deposits—"

 _That_ startled Keith. "Really?"

Lance flinched. "... Yeah. Anyway, you leaving now... Knowing that _Shiro,_ " Lance said the name with a sweet reverence—like many others when meeting the hero of the Kerberos mission. "Uh, is your—"

Keith groaned, repressing his laughter as Lance jumped in his seat. Obviously, Lance hadn't expected him to get bored. But what was Lance thinking? Keith wasn't _new_ to all of this. This was his life. he didn't need it explained to him. He didn't need Lance to break it down and express condolences. " _Yes_ , Lance. I _washed out_ because my brother was dead. Then, it turned out, he wasn't. Happy?"

"No?"

Keith pulled out his phone, clicking his tongue as he brought up his chat with Shiro. This was Shiro's fault. He trapped him in a car with Lance McClain. He was going to suffer. "I didn't leave _just_ because of Shiro. It was a lot more complicated than that, okay? I would've left anyway."

Keith paused, biting his tongue. There were _other problems._

"If you say so."

Keith could tell Lance was trying to sound skeptical, but Keith heard the bounce in his voice. Lance didn't deserve to think that he only graduated because Keith left. Lance may have gotten upgraded to fighter class because of Keith, but no one graduates at the top of their class if they didn't deserve it. Keith wondered what Iverson thought of that. Lance, the boy he insulted and ridiculed and said wasn't good enough, squeezing his way in and making the absolute best of it. 

All praise for Lance fleeted from Keith's mind after he heard the young pilot talk. "So... No. You could never beat me in a simulator."

Keith scoffed. "Who said anything about a simulator? We're staying at the Shirogane's beach house. Miles of untouched plains," Keith sang. "I'm going to take you flying, McClain. And I'm going to kick your ass."

Lance grinned but appeared preoccupied. It occurred to Keith then, that a top-notch pilot couldn't even get a ticket on someone _else's_ plane? Keith backed out of his chat with Shiro, rereading Lance's ridiculous texts. Not only did it become painfully clear to Keith that this was _Lance,_ but he reread the part about Lance staying with his grandmother. Keith knew enough about Family issues not to ask, but he assumed they were connected. 

"Twenty-three hundred miles," Keith blurted, staring at a particular line of text.

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"It's not," Keith cleared his throat. "Shiro said three thousand miles? It's—"

" _Oh_ ," Lance waved his hand. "Yeah—"

"—not three thou—"

"—I know..."

They both ceased at once, drowning in the uncomfortable silence. It was going to be a _fun_ trip. 


	3. Ailment

Shiro

**Who is this kid? He's a KID, Shiro.**

**What the hell?**

**Do you think I'm not above killing the messenger?**

**He's in the car with me.**

**Not as a corpse, but I think I'll make one by the end of this week. What do you think?**

**Shiro, we talked about this. Tell me you're not dead.**

**Now?**

**Shiro?**

**SHIRO. NOW.**

Not dead. Working. Love you.

**Good to know. Please, do continue freezing me out while I deal with this hyperactive, outgoing CHILD.**

**Have you ever texted him?**

He's... Eccentric.

**He called me bro. BRO, Shiro.**

I'm so sorry you had to endure such a tragedy.

**Don't get snarky with me.**

Working now.

**FINE.**

********

Shiro

I'm free.

**For good?**

Not quite.

I might not be at the house by the time you get there.

**SHIRO.**

Come on, Lance is not that bad. Let me settle up work so I can take the summer off.

**You could get it if you wanted it.**

I'm not playing the medical card. I HATE playing the medical card.

**Uh-Oh.**

Keith...

What did you do?

**Payback time.**

Don't kill my boyfriend.

Please.

Keith?

**Lance is asking if I'm texting you.**

**He says me typing 'you' is confirmation.**

He's reading over your shoulder?

For how long?

**Hang on.**

**Okay. He's throwing a fit, but he's not looking anymore. Like I said, hyperactive child.**

Keith. You know what I'm asking about.

**He wants to know what you mean by 'the medical card.'**

You're sure he's not looking?

**Positive. And I'm sorry. I didn't know.**

**Answer.**

**Shiro? Please?**

**What do I do if he starts asking questions?**

**What can I tell him?**

**Shiro, he could be freaking out.**

**Okay.**

**I love you. Lips are sealed.**

Thank you.

**Jerk.**

********

"Is he sick?" Lance asked, again. 

Keith just sighed. "Lance, I will put in Sound Chips if you don't back off."

Keith didn't look at him. Judging by the trembling voice, he didn't think he could handle it if he did. 

"But is he _okay_?"

Keith had half a mind to snap, _What do you think?!_ but refrained, sighing again instead. 

"Keith," Lance accused through grit teeth. "Is this why he's inviting me to the wedding? How much time does he have _left_?"

The blood poured slowly into Keith's feet. He promised Shiro he would say nothing. _Nothing._ Why did Lance have to sound so concerned? 

"This is why he doesn't fly anymore," Lance surmised. "Iverson always said bad shit, that Takashi shouldn't have been on that mission in the first place. The best pilot in the garrison? Why _did_ that ship crash? What did they mean by pilot error? Keith? _Keith!?_ Answer me!"

Keith looked up, Lance's eyes wet and his lip trembling. He thought about Adam, Shiro's last love, unable to take the pressure of loving someone so much they were destined to lose. Keith liked Adam. He was trying so very hard to not compare him to Lance right now. But Keith and Adam had talked several times about the _Pilot Error._ About whether Shiro had died _before_ the ship crashed. Why Shiro was incapable of even saying the word 'Mayday.' Adam talked about the guilt. Even though he didn't want to feel Shiro's loss, he felt it anyway. Only... Shiro went up there thinking he was _alone_. 

Then Shiro had the audacity to come back alive and hurt Adam more.

Keith didn't realize he had a wet streak down his cheek. Thinking about Shiro... It wasn't fair. To Shiro or Keith or Adam. Now Lance was on that list? Keith knew exactly why Shiro was afraid. What if Lance couldn't handle it? This obnoxious young pilot sitting right next to Keith, poking incessantly at him for answers; Shiro didn't want to lose him.

Keith turned to face Lance, even though he was crying - quite possibly, scaring him more - he made a single request. "Please, Lance. Just let him have this."

********

Shiro

He is not a child.

**Why was this worth more than sleep?**

Good morning.

**Good NIGHT.**

Lance is not a child. He's your age.

Lance also has ADHD. Don't get on him about being hyper.

**Fine. But Lance is younger than me, actually.**

**Almost a whole year.**

So he was one class younger than you, so what? He's twenty. He turns twenty one soon.

**Sweet lord.**

**Your boyfriend can't drink.**

Keith, no one should drink under twenty five.

**Shiro, Lance can't buy alcohol.**

Do you drink?

**Lance is too young to drink.**

You know your brain isnt fully developed until twentyfive right? We talked about this

**One of us will successfully derail this conversation and it ain't gonna be you.**

You want the speech? I was going to give it in person.

I get to live too keith

**We'll talk in person.**

Understand now that age doesn't matter. LANCE matters.

You'd know that if you knew him like I do

**Okay.**

So... youre done talking now?

Response?

**Goodnight Shiro**

Tell Lance to text me

**Sure. 'Night.**

  



	4. Gangly Sleeper

For some reason, Shiro asked Keith to tell Lance he wanted to talk to him. Keith smirked. So Lance was angry at Shiro for ditching too, huh? It made Keith feel better.

Keith drifted off to sleep after delivering the message. Lance noticed Shiro wanted to text him, not call him. He didn't appear visibly mad. Keith had insensitively asked Lance not to break up with his brother while they were stuck together in a car, then he reclined enough to sleep. 

********

Keith awoke twenty minutes later when his head bounced off the headrest. Looking up, he saw Lance back-lit by the lights of the highway in the back seat. He must have been shifting into a more comfortable position and kicked Keith's headrest. Lance didn't notice, so Keith kept his eyes sealed closed—mostly. 

His eyes adapted enough to see Lance from the light of his phone. Lance's legs were stretched out across the seat, his jacket sleeve blocking his face as he read a message. Lance paused and put his hand down. His legs flung to his chest excitedly as he began composing a message. Lance clutched his phone in his hands, his thumbs flying across the screen at the speed of light. He sent the message and lowered his phone. His eyes wandered manically to the lights surrounding the little truck—his expression euphoric.

Even with no light in the dark car, Keith could see Lance's face dusted pink. 

Keith closed his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy. Keith didn't realize how tired he was. When he opened his eyes again, he didn't immediately register the pain on Lance's face. That was a face _robbed_ of its joy, one Keith had seen on Lance many times at the garrison. His expression wavered, his brows creasing in agony. 

The phone dinged. Lance didn't acknowledge it with enthusiasm. Not this time.

He stretched his legs out, kicking Keith again. Keith grunted. He flinched as Lance's shoe caught a strand of his hair between the sole and the cushion. He opened his eyes again to Lance cringing.

"I... am so sorry," Lance whispered. 

Keith sat up, watching Lance curiously sit into a criss-cross position on the seat. "It's okay,"

But Lance was staring at his phone. 

"How's Shiro?"

Lance grunted. "Perfectly normal. Nothing has changed at all."

Keith rubbed his tingling scalp, looking in the glove box for a hair tie. He bunched his hair up, turning away from the amused, but horrified expression on Lance's face. "What has he told you?"

Lance hummed. "Nothing. but we're talking about _this_ now."

Keith turned, his expression neutral. "Okay." He shrugged.

There was nothing quite as rewarding as watching Lance peter out and drown. 

Lance ditched the effort and scoffed. "It's - Ugh!" He grabbed his jacket and pulled, tightening it around himself. "He won't even talk about it! And he said I could never break you either, by the way, so that's good to know."

Keith winced. "Maybe..."

Lance kept his gaze fixed out the back window. 

"No," Keith decided. "I'm sorry."

"Can't you—can we—can't we at least find somewhere to sleep?" Lance asked "I can't sleep in this box. I'm lanky."

"You're toned," Keith said. "Not important. Look, we've already missed a whole day because of this freak accident. All the roads I wanted to take were closed. Everybody's jammed. I am _not_ losing our spot."

Lance squirmed. "But, Keith! Please, I wanted to be in bed so long ago. I'm never going to..."

Keith sighed, pulling his seat up to give Lance more room. "Just try to sleep. Okay? It's easier when you're exhausted."

"Keith?" Lance pleaded.

"Goodnight."

********

Something about hearing Lance's broken, fragile plea stuck with Keith. It kept him up. That, or Lance's constant grunts and moans while he fidgeted, all but whining as he struggled. 

"Keith?" Lance asked, his voice fully alert and awake.

Keith kept his eyes closed, listening to the cars softly humming around them. The occasional honk in the distance or light of an overhead vehicle keeping it interesting enough for him. Lance was trying to see if he was asleep. In a couple minutes, Keith very well might be. He could sleep in this car, Keith could sleep _anywhere._ A bed, his truck, the floor, the school bleachers when he didn't want to go home...

Dammit.

"What?"

Lance sighed. "Let's take the next exit."

"Okay," Keith shifted.

"No," Lance objected. "Get as much rest as you can. I can pilot fine."

Shuffling and grunting indicated Lance was climbing his way to the front. It was so loud Keith was completely awake, but Lance was trying to be nice so Keith kept his eyes shut. 

"Now, did you—or did you not—program this vehicle to murder me for touching it?"

Keith grunted, feigning grogginess. "Go ahead."

He heard beeping. 

"It's the door locks you should be worried about."

Keith heard Lance groan, then curse, then continue his work.

Keith waited for Lance to fumble his way back through the china shop to the back seat but heard nothing. He considered opening his eyes but they felt heavy. His muscles started sinking into nothing and Keith fell asleep, knowing he probably wouldn't have if he'd had to change their course. "Thanks, Lance..."

"No problem, Mullet."

********

Keith woke to a brutal shake. Lance's exasperated face gawked inches from his own. He smelled like coconut soap and road snacks.

"Jeez, man."

"Yeah," Keith grunted. "I know. But once I'm up, I'm up."

"Good. We're at the motel. I was hoping to let you get your bearings first but..." Lance gestured vaguely to Keith "Whatever. I can check us in."

"I'll pay," Keith offered.

Lance shook his head. "We'll work it out later... Get our bags."

"The cargo hold locks," Keith reminded him.

"I know!" Lance called as he climbed out of the truck, landing on two feet on the floor. "So get _my_ bags. I'm not about to leave them in your truck all night."

Keith couldn't snap at him because Lance slammed the door shut in his face. 

Keith let his hair down and ran his fingers through the kinks, mumbling to himself. "Perfectly safe..."

By the time Keith dragged Lance's heavy-ass bag out of the floor he saw Lance waving him over to a door near their parking spot. 

Keith locked the cargo hold, set the car into low-power mode, and locked the doors. He rubbed his eyes, not willing to admit he was tired to Lance after his claim. The bright motel lights blared down on him. The reds and whites clashed together, giving Keith's eyes momentary breaks from light exposure before burning them out again.

"Take the bed," Lance ordered. "I'll survive on the floor. I just needed to get rid of the distractions."

"No way, ADHD." Keith slapped his shoulder. "I can sleep in Red, I can sleep in here. Take the bed, get some mother—get some sleep?"

Lance tucked his massive case between his bed and the wall, smirking. "I think I'd like you without a filter."

Keith stole some of Lance's blankets as he climbed in, wrapping one around himself as to avoid the floor and keep warm. Lance crawled into the bed with his shoes still on. Ten minutes later, Keith heard them hit the floor. Then he heard Lance groan. He heard him complaining about the temperature; it was too cold and Keith took his blankets. Lance stomped to the ancient air conditioner and turned the heat up. Then the bed was too soft. And then, and then, and then...

Silence. 

At four A.M. They'd have to start late, but Keith was certain Lance could get enough sleep for tomorrow's journey. They were already so far behind. Now, apparently, they had to stop for sleep? Non-stop it was a three-day journey, they were half a day behind already. Now they were doubling their arrival time. So it would take them five days... No, less? More?

Keith fell asleep.


	5. Hopeful Armistace

"So," Keith started quite loudly, happy Lance was finally awake. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Lance rubbed his eyes. His body slowly rose from the tangled covers. "Are you insane?"

Keith paused, looking Lance up and down. He hadn't considered giving Lance time to wake up. After the fit he threw last night, it made sense that he wasn't a morning person.

"Sorry, let me—I'll let you get up," Keith said.

"No, it—it's _fine_." Lance threw his covers off. "I'm just not an early riser,"

"It's nine o'clock."

Lance squinted at Keith, his head cocked at an angle. His straight, brown hair was curlier in the morning. It was also sticking up in every place it grew. It made Keith think that the coconut smell emanating from him all the time was likely expensive conditioners.

" _And_?" Lance inquired. "We were up past three last night. And I _know_ that you didn't sleep right away either."

Keith dropped his jaw. "Well, how could I? With you tossing and turning all night—getting up and changing the thermostat to one-hundred degrees?"

"Well at least I didn't put it down to forty!" Lance accused as he stumbled passed keith, pushing into the bathroom with a black bag tucked under his arm.

Keith knew that Lance didn't mean it. He knew Lance's sharp words were only a retaliation, designed to get a rise out of him—competing in a falsely-conceived rivalry. But it's not like any of that information made it to Keith's brain before his pride.

"Seventy," Keith mocked. "I set it high—to be generous."

"What?" Lance called incredulously from inside the small washroom. The door rattled loudly with Lance's obscene struggle to turn the doorknob. The door swung open and his head popped out, his body hidden by the wood. "In what world is _seventy_ —" Lance fumbled behind the door. Keith heard something thud as heavy cloth hit the floor. Lance's hands appeared behind his ears, the door swinging unstably as he tried to maneuver. Keith looked at the ceiling suddenly. "'setting it high?'"

Keith swallowed desperately to cure his dry mouth. His brain was still spinning from catching _a little too much_ of Lance's bare skin.

Keith felt his bangs blow into his eyes and Lance slammed the doors, sparing him—knowingly or not—from further embarrassment.

Keith rolled his eyes, shaking out of his paralysis. "I don't expect you to sleep in seventy degrees, you have blankets."

"... _Blankets_?"

"Yeah, duh. You can always grab more. What're you supposed to do when it's hot? Take your clothes off?"

"If you'd like," Lance said simply; tauntingly.

Keith's head snapped back. Instantly, his mind reeled from the idea.

 _No_ , he thought _Shiro is my brother—off limits_.

Lance started the shower, the familiar high-pitched squeal silencing both of them forever, leaving Lance with the Last word. Keith should've spoken up. He should have said something. Said, 'No, don't joke about that.' But he didn't. Maybe he would have if he thought Lance could still hear him, but it didn't matter now. It wasn't a moment Keith could steal back—to fix it and do it right.

Shiro always said Keith blew things out of proportion—that he thought too much. Keith did worry and stress a lot, he could overthink sometimes but other times he was _right_. Keith had no real reason to believe this was one of those time. He decided to leave it alone.

"I'm going to check us out," Keith declared.

A quick sound of metal on metal: Lance moving the curtain. "Hmm?"

"CHECKOUT!"

********

Their bags were packed and stashed in the secure bed of the truck. Lance watched Keith fumble with the farse, rusty lock in silence. He probably sensed some danger from Keith's end—both fo them waiting to argue about this too. When, thankfully, Keith busted it open to reveal the high-tech vault inside. Lance relaxed and let Keith put his bags in. Keith had also done it for him last time, meaning Lance hadn't seen the safe in daylight. Maybe, he wouldn't drag his bags everywhere anymore.

"So?" Lance asked, his tone of his question not inviting Keith to join the conversation. "When will we get there?"

Keith looked up from his book. He uncrossed his legs and set it on the floor. "That depends—"

"Cause I thought," Lance interrupted. "us stopping every night might slow us down a bit—and I don't want to stop for only six hours again. I want to sleep more."

Keith clenched his teeth. "Well, that answers _my_ question. It takes three days—twenty-four-hour days—with the car on autopilot. The car crash slowed us down by half a day. The hotel stay by half of that."

Lance blinked, keeping his expression neutral.

"We're a day and a half behind," Keith explained better—in a more human, sociable way. "Stopping for nights would double our trip to six days, we're at seven now, with that wreck."

Lance whistled. "Damn. Whadya think caused that thing?"

Keith gestured to his phone on the dashboard. "I've been watching the traffic alerts. Some genius tried to outsmart his car—grabbed the wheel when his tires blew out. It sent him spinning into the opposing lane. The wrong way."

Lance started laughing, hard. But he hadn't read the news alert yet, so: "Four people died."

Lance shifted uncomfrotably, his smie dying. "Pleople don't... _die_ in car crashes anymore."

This time, it _was_ a statement phrased like a question, inviting clarification; asking Keith for his contribution. Keith was starting to get the hang of talking to Lance. "First time in twenty years. Someone's suspension cables snapped, their kids weren't strapped into seatbelts because, well..."

No one has needed them for twenty years.

Lance looked stricken by the news. Keith was too—this kind of thing didn't happen anymore. Keith fixed cars for a living, he was paid to make sure this didn't happen. He wasn't respected, but he knew how important it was. And the fact that it was kids, that made it worse too. But Keith wasn't heartbroken the way he normally would be—he was defensive. He was waiting for Lance to say something.

"We're not going to crash. This car—" Keith stopped, noticing Lance shy away. "Lance... I won't grab the wheel again. Okay? Not after this."

Lance didn't respond. Lance didn't acknowledge Keith—nothing.

"Ugh," Keith scoffed. "You always were too empathetic."

Keith picked his book up, feeling his neck hairs stand on end before Lance even said the words.

"You never were enough."

********

All of Keith's hopes about getting there on time were ruined. He figured, as long as they only stopped for that one night, he could beat the system—get them there faster. Then, he wouldn't have to spend one more unplanned day with Lance.

Nope. Not anymore. Those kids dying made it all a little too real. Keith was a responsible driver; a trained pilot. Lance was too. Of all people on the planet, they should be the ones to exercise their Free Driving Rights. But... Isn't that what happened?

Keith told himself no, of course not. Someone shifted into manual in a panic—grabbing the wheel because they didn't know what else to do. Someone else, unfortunately, didn't correctly assemble the suspension of that family's car. The end. Keith was different.

And, now that Keith had talked himself back into driving, he supposed it was good Lance was here; watching. Otherwise, he'd be weaving through traffic, getting ahead of the other cars.

Keith looked down at his phone. A small light was blinking, indicating he had a message. He forgot to take his phone off vibrate. "Oh, _Shiro_..."

It was a message from five minutes ago. He doesn't recognize the number, but they have a texting history.

********

Unknown Number

dont even think about it.

********

"Are you kidding me?"

"Hm." Lance seemed disinterested, his hood thrown up as he stared out the window. "Shiro said you never answered your phone."

Keith clenched his jaw, trying to focus; to calm himself. "Doesn't it make you mad? Shiro not telling you? Throwing you at me like a shield?"

Lance didn't turn his head. "What are you talking about, Keith?"

The most infuriating thing, by far, was his tone. He sounded so condescending. Lance used the voice of someone who was tired of ridiculing a child.

Keith tried so hard to hold himself steady, he did. He used to be so angry all the time. He'd resort to physical altercations to solve anything he couldn't by yelling or screaming. Back then, he'd get physical when something tried his patience too _much_. Now was one of those times.

He released a wavering breath, rage blossoming when Lance raised his eyebrow tauntingly. It wasn't Lance's fault—Keith knew that. As far as Lance was concerned Keith was always like this. He had always _been_ like this, back at the garrison. Lance didn't know how much work Keith had put to becoming calm—especially after he got kicked out on Lance's behalf.

"I am _talking_ about Shiro making you text me. Did he call you? Did he text you?" Keith spat. "If he had time to, he could've told me. Instead, he threw you at me—made _you_ explain. Knowing full well that we _hate_ each other."

Lance opened his eyes, glaring at Keith without reserve. Of the two of them, Lance was the one who never censored himself—by nature, he didn't need to. Because of this, Keith could always rely on him to be honest. Passive aggressive? Yeah. But _honest_.

"I didn't hate you." Lance sat up. "Can't say much about now, though."

Keith bit the inside of his cheek. "Fine. It was all good for _you_ , but this hurt _me_."

Keith looked away, not wanting to monitor Lance's torturing expressions. He wasn't going to play off his reactions anymore. He had something to say, he was going to say it.

"I can't stand people. Not the way I should, at least," Keith said. "Blame whoever you want—god knows I have. My mom, my dad, Shiro's family— _my_ family. Doesn't matter. Doesn't change anything. He knows it's hard for me. Shiro knows how hard _people_ are for me.

"Did he ask? Did he care? No. He brought you along—was going to bring you along. He did this without telling me. I don't know if you knew it was a secret, or if you thought I knew you were coming—I don't care. He texted you.

"Had he texted _me_ I could have prepared!" Keith spun to face Lance, getting angrier. "I could've gathered strength to deal with the most—the most outward, social, extroverted, ADHD addled person I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with!"

Keith could feel his heart beating strongly. It was thumping louder than anything else. As it slowed down, Keith took in the look of horror on Lance's face. He wasn't scared of Keith—but guilty and anxious and protective. He didn't know how to respond. Lance was trapped in the car with a crazy person who just—

"God, no. Lance?" Keth whispered. "I didn't mean..."

Lance didn't sniff. He didn't cry. He kept his voice calm, low at a whisper, but controlled. "It's okay. I—I know I'm a bit much."

"It was uncalled for," Keith said.

"Maybe, but it's not your fault. Shiro—he called me and told me to explain it to you. he said you had troubled with crowds when I mentioned how stuffed the Hard Rock Cafe was—I didn't consider..."

Lance grabbed Keith's hand. He had long, agile fingers; perfect for a pilot. He looked up at Keith, his words caught in his throat. He didn't seem to know what to say—maybe he was afraid he'd messed up, seizing Keith's hand like that. If Lance were _anyone_ else, Keith would've snatched his hand away—he wasn't family.

Finally, he smirked. "Truce? I can yell at him—freak him out a bit."

Keith snickered, his chest relaxing as Lance took his hand away. He combated the urge to flex his muscles—to rub his hands together and get rid of that lingering touch. "S'fine."

Lance was looking at him weirdly. Something had changed, Keith couldn't decipher what. When Lance talked, his voice was different, too. "Then we'd better stop for nights. I can sleep in all morning and you—you can get up at six and detox from me. A win-win."

"That... sounds pretty okay."

Lance smiled. "I've heard _that_ before."

Oh. _Oh_. Lance was trying to get back on his good side. He was flirting? He was always very flirty—towards girls. Keith had never been on the receiving end.

Keith turned away suddenly. He could fix his previous mistake. Right? He looked over his shoulder, trying to decode Lance's simper. "No, no. Not..."

"What?" Lance laughed. "Not close enough? Well, you'd better get close—okay! _Jeez_ , I get it. Too much, I'll back down."

"Thank you," Keith said. He'd meant to say it out loud. He did, actually, but did Lance hear him?

"For now."

Well, that didn't make anything much clearer. Was that a no? A yes?

"Okay, fine," Keith conceded. "We'll stop for nights. I'll text Shiro that we'll be late."


	6. Perception

Shiro

**We're not going to make it on time, either.**

Should i be worried?

**No. We're just working things out.**

working things out? what happened?

you fought.

**No.**

You hesitated. you didn't text back right away

**There was a car accident, that's all.**

Ummm? No?

**Not funny, Shiro. Some people died.**

are you alright? What happened? I'll come get you

**No need. We weren't involved. We got backed up in traffic and stopped for the night. It was exhausting.**

oh

how late?

**A couple of days.**

Alright.

How's Lance?

**He's a lot to handle.**

That's not what I meant.

**He wants to know if you can text him.**

really? **  
**

**No. I just don't want to say it.**

Oh no.

Was it bad?

Ugh. I shouldn't have missed that flight

I feel like I should be there to monitor him

**No. It wasn't bad.**

**It was funny.**

Well good

You're getting along?

**Oh, yeah. Everything's going great.**

I can hear the sarcasm.

Either that or LANCE: give the phone back.

**He didn't take the phone.**

**But he is laughing really hard right now.**

He does that.

**It really takes up his whole face, doesn't it?**

Exactly!

god ive been trying to figure out what it was

**I've never seen anybody laugh with their whole body before.**

RIGHT

Is he doing the back and forth thing?

**The rocking? Yeah. I keep waiting for him to slap his knee.**

Wait for it.

**He didn't do it.**

lame

you could've lied, you know?

**He just screamed "YeeHaw!"**

No he didn't

but I appreciate the effort

**Anytime.**

* * *

Lance had moved to the backseat, claiming he needed the room for his gangly legs. Keith doubted that. Occasionally, Lance would lean over his seat and read Keith's texts over his shoulder. Keith was worried that he was trying to catch wind of something he shouldn't—like he was gleaning information about Shiro's disease. Lance had backed away from the subject respectfully, but he seemed too emotional and curious by nature to drop it entirely.

Keith, in the meantime, was trying to keep calm about it. He didn't like people sitting so _close_ to him. He certainly didn't like people reading his private texts. The Keith that Shiro knew wasn't for anyone else to see. Keith was a different person around Shiro; he was less guarded. It wasn't like Keith didn't trust people. He certainly wasn't trying to be cool or mysterious or anything. He just had some reservations when other humans were added into the equation.

After all, Lance's incessant peeking had led to some good things. Shiro's texts were a safe subject for them. Lance looked at their texts and laughed. Seeing Shiro's texts, even through Keith's eyes, made him much easier to deal with. Lance was more relaxed now. His shoulders loosened and the creases between his eyes disappeared. If just a text from Shiro could do that, Keith wondered what the two were like in person. They're probably really good together.

Keith put his phone away. He looked back, noticing that Lance's eyes darted out and followed the movement. As soon as Keith's phone was hidden from view, Lance returned to staring out the window.

Keith concluded that Lance wasn't trying to invade his privacy, he was just too attentive. The scenery outside their windows had captured enough of his attention during this trip. Keith hadn't realized it before, but Lance was _actually_ pretty chill. He'd been staring out the windows for three straight hours, just absorbing the stimulus of a new place. Turns out, it was only upon engaging him that Keith found him to be an extroverted dork.

Perhaps that was why Keith was so relaxed around him now. They _hadn't_ been socializing non-stop. Not like they had yesterday. Lance was occupying himself in intervals. Seeking Keith out when he craved attention and affection, but backing off before Keith became too overwhelmed. It was nice.

Lance was really perceptive.

Keith _had_ been dreading this trip, yes. For one thing, he thought he was getting landed with a stranger. Ans after seeing Lance, he panicked. Lance was worse than a stranger. Now, looking back on their personal history, Keith thought Lance couldn't have been too stoked to ride with Keith, either: the Garrison hot-head.

Keith was a different person now, though. He no longer attacked anything that moved. Years of martial arts training has drilled him into a patient, level-headed individual. He kept his emotions under control. He analyzed new scenarios with little difficulty; no longer provoking or antagonizing them as a threat.

Regardless, this road trip was tense. Lance was frustrating him. His breaks from social contact showed a lot of consideration on Lance's part but didn't erase their awkward conversations from existence. Keith does fine in the silence, but Lance seems to drown in it. But, because Lance was trying, Keith was trying.

He was regretting it.

Their texting fiasco had spurred a new fire in Lance. Now that Lance deemed Keith recharged, he was going to start a conversation. Keith knew it. Lance was always obnoxious and loud about it, interrupting the comfortable silence with abrupt questions to bait Keith into talking. Then, no matter how vague Keith managed to be, he pushed. Lance, this entire time, had been pushing Keith to be more open.

Keith took a steady, slow breath. He pushed the air into his stomach, breathing in deep, holding for a few seconds, then releasing slowly.

Lance was trying to compromise. He may be getting it wrong—assuming Keith needed to change his personality so they can coexist—but he's compromising nonetheless. All Keith needs to do is have Lance accept him for who he is. They only need to alter their behavior, not their individual traits.

"So!" Lance yelled, excitedly turning to Keith.

Keith froze, his ears filling with blood and his body freezing up. His hand jumped to his heart, holding it there as he tried to steady the panicked thumping. Everything about Lance was a startling change of pace. Lance always yelled to get someone's attention; Keith had been preparing for it—but _god_. Keith took another breath, flashing Lance a look that prompted him to continue.

Lance smiled. "What's your family like?"

Keith felt his heart slow. He turned away, looking out the driver's window. He could feel his back starting to pinch, his shoulders tense and sharper than normal. He felt like he was at the Garrison all over again. He sat with his back straighter, his eyes more alert, and when he spoke, his voice was steady; his response minimal. "Complicated."

 _"Sorry, sorry, sorry..."_ Lance whispered _._

Keith looked in the mirror, waiting for Lance to continue. Surely, Lance would try to salvage this. Had Keith snapped at him? He didn't think he had. But Lance was awfully good at noticing Keith's ticks, as subtle as Keith tried to be. But, again, it's not like Keith wasn't being super obvious right now. He was bracing for Lance to ask another question—probably equally intrusive, but something to fill the silence.

Anything to fill the silence. Silence, once Keith's greatest ally, was making him sweat. Lance looked afraid of Keith, his body turned away with guilt. His thumbs tapped nervously on the seat. Lance groaned, fists clenching as he tried to calm himself. He settled for pulling at his jacket sleeves.

Their eyes locked in the mirror.

Not a second later, Lance leaned in closer to Keith—too close. Keith's nerves were on fire; Lance's body too warm and his coconut smell pungent. "Did you know my sister Veronica is at the Garrison?"

Keith kept his eyes fixed on the road. No, he didn't know that. He opened his mouth, words failing to form. His throat was dry.

Lance pulled away. For a second, Keith thought he'd failed. Lance was giving up on him. Keith was hopeless and not worth the time. He was too distant for someone like Lance.

"She didn't test in earlier," Lance continued, his voice soft. "Not like I did. It wasn't really her goal, you know? The Garrison was always my dream. She was studying engineering at a university. She specialized in a field that got her an internship. She was working for the company that constructs and tests the Garrison's equipment when Shiro went missing."

Lance softened as he talked. Talking about his family, and possibly Shiro, put him at ease. The selfish part of Keith thought there was an undertone of understanding to it. Lance was picking up on Keith's paralysis. He was diminishing his boisterous traits with a deep, controlled voice. When Lance smiled, it didn't touch his eyes. He was calm; complacent.

"Actually, Veronica is how I met Shiro..." Lance explained. "She was a specialist trying to make sure there would never be a 'Kerberos disaster' ever again. After a year of silence—when the Holts hacked one of the satellites on Pluto—she was assigned to his team. She instructed Sam on how to modify their equipment. Her design for lighter, faster vehicles was the basis for the MFEs the Garrison uses today."

Keith raised an eyebrow. Lance's sister did that? The MFEs saved Shiro's life; Keith owed them his own because of it. Well, Ryan, Ina, and Rizavi. As Lance talked, telling him the story from his own side, Keith relaxed. Keith had heard the story a thousand times. He envied the MFE pilots, all students in his own class at the Garrison. If Keith had held on, he could've been one of them. Instead, James Griffin took his place while Keith moped in the desert.

Lance grew more open and cheerful as Keith fell back into his seat. Keith kicked his boots on the dashboard while Lance told him this tale.

"I hadn't been fighter class long enough to apply for the MFE program, but it still hurt when Veronica didn't take me on that mission to the replica. She and the others took this train to find an ounce for ounce replica of Shiro's ship so she could evaluate what she was working with..."

Oh, Shiro has heard this story. If Lance told him he wasn't in the fighter class long enough, it would explain why Shiro thought Lance was in the year younger than Keith. In reality, Lance and Keith had known each other fairly well—too well in some cases. But Lance was a cargo pilot, he advanced into Keith's spot in the program. Why didn't Lance tell him? Shame?

Lance was still talking. "... She invited me to meet the team. I thought she meant Kinkade and Rizavi and the rest. She meant her new team. The MFEs, Curtis, and Shiro. I was so nervous when I met him. I just kept thinking, holy crap, I'm kissing Takashi Shirogan—anyway."

Keith snorted. He felt his face and ears turn red. His chest felt abnormally hot. "You kissed him the day you met him?"

Lance shrugged, his face equally pink. "Well, I mean, yeah! He was just, he was impressive—very attractive. My hero, for a while, before Kerberos. Well, after, too. Especially after. He—" Lance paused, looking lost in thought. His gaze wandered to the passing road signs. "It was good having you at the Garrison—before you got kicked out."

Lance's eyes were sincere. He sat with his body still, resting peacefully as far as the rear seat could recline. His eyes were lidded half-closed. His irises were deep blue, not brown like Keith remembered. His relaxed posture, maybe the longing in his voice; something took Keith by surprise.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah, I think…" He pursed his lips together. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I think everyone needs someone to humble them. You took me down a peg."

Keith waited. Lance was serious. It was too much for him to handle. It was too open and raw.

"Oh, please," Keith scoffed. "I’m humble enough. I’m Japanese."

"You—" Lance's brows pinched together, his mouth agape. Lance shook his head, neck bowed; eyes wide. "Who is it, exactly, that humbles you? Shiro?"

Keith thought about it. "God,"

Lance huffed, flopping back into the seat. "You're insufferable."

Keith smiled, oddly touched by the insult. He knew Lance didn't mean it, but it felt right. It felt normal. Keith and Lance, falling back together on a disaster road rip. Keith just might be able to survive long enough to get him to Oregon alive.


End file.
